Messy
by conspire
Summary: In a world where you're controlled by everybody else, somehow, an elite supermodel finds her way and vice versa with a photographer in the high-end New York City. Breaking through the cracks of being controlled, things slip through their hands and misery is preparing to consume them.
1. Preface

** This is based off a story I roleplayed with a good friend of mine. A large portion of what is written in this story is based off it, but it does take off into other places.

This preface is just to get you going.

**FIX YOU:** _Preface_

It was all a lie.. or at least, she would make it a lie. It would be known as a lie because she needed it to be something, to have a meaning and a reason and she didn't really have one to spawn from her own mind, causing her to end things with this.. a lie.

She sighed, her breath coming out of her lungs and into the air, into the winter of the darkness around her now. She wished her breath was full of chemicals, those in a cigarette.. but she quit that four years ago.

Was it crazy how still four years after her surgery, after seven years of knowing Jack Craft, she was still in this much.. secret misery?

She wouldn't tell him that. She wouldn't tell him the pain, the ache, the way her mind still had a part of it missing and a ventricle was missing from the heart he claimed in her chest. A whole ventricle; one whole section of the heart, that didn't pump blood through certain veins. Those—- those empty veins, that empty part of her, without the blood, without Jack, was pain.

The other three sections made a heart, though. It made a heart that was always going to struggle with life, but one that would beat and be healthy and make things okay.

It beat blood hard, thick, fast and bright into her body. It lightened her veins.

AJ's heart in her pumped blood all over.

He even gave a little to the darkest veins that Jack's heart didn't pump through anymore.

AJ's littleness there gave her a way to deal with the pain. A way to hide it.

"What're you thinking about, baby?" a soft voice comes in her ear— so close it makes her inhale sharply, her shoulder tighten before her muscles relax and she settles back into her position against the gate in one of the backyards in the luxurious house she owns now, with Jack, with AJ.

She gives a small smile. It's so natural. It's so easy. It just happens.

"I'm thinking about you and AJ," she whispers back, as if it's some devious secret. With her words, she turns her head and throws Jack a light smirk. Their song starts playing in her head.

He chuckles, dark and low, but.. so there. So there with her. So for her. All hers.

"That doesn't sound too convincing," a warm arm slips around her waist, and Matty stands straighter; she has bare feet and a sweater wrapped around her arms, as sweatpants barely touch her legs from their bagginess. Her hair falls freely, and her breath comes lightly.

She feels so much better than she did four years ago.

"And why not?" the word's are just a tug at the conversation, but Jack's lips are lightly grazing her jawline, which makes her giggle quietly and curl her arms around his head. As she does so, he tucks his face into her neck and his lips are there, planting small, light kisses.

"I don't know, to be honest," he whispers, his voice implying every factor for the I-really-don't-give-a-shit attitude. She giggles again.

"AJ's in bed?"

Of course he's in bed. It's near ten. And AJ is only five..

"Yes, baby," the voice on her skin speaks in a continuous quiet whisper.

She laughs again as her mind returns to her thoughts, except of the more positive things in it. She skips forward on her trail from before; she thinks of how she's finally ended up exactly where she wants to be, despite the mess. She's where she needs.

But everyday she wonders if Jack is lying to her.

She doesn't care.

His lips are at hers now.

She's still giving a small smile.

His lips part gently, and he chuckles the same low, dark chuckle as he did a minute ago.

"What's making you so happy, baby?" his hand gently caresses her chin, his thumb trailing across her lower lip that's curved up in a tiny smirk now.

"You are."

"You're not lying?"

"Why would I lie?"

He smiles.


	2. Can I shoot you nude?

** I see you're taking a shot at the first chapter, eh? Well, here it starts from the very beginning- and don't worry if this first chapter bores you, the angst starts sooner than you think.

**FIX YOU:**_ Chapter 1_ - "Can I shoot you nude?"

The city buzzed frantically, as this was the time of year most tourists came around. But, of course, being Matty Zeron would attract attention in itself. You don't really, usually, catch flashes of camera's when they're forty feet away and in broad daylight, but it formed as an extra sense in the back of her mind; someone on the sidewalk is taking pictures, moving closer. But right across the street is the building, is Jack Craft's studio, so she'll be fine.

She notices a few people have their cell phones out, too, and she hears little voices around her and feels fingers pointing at her as if they were poking into her ribs, little jab's; unwelcomed contact.

But she's Matty Zeron. And she asked for this lifestyle. So she gives a small smile as she keeps her head down and hides in the most visible way.

Two steps onto the street crossing, she sees Annie's building not too far from where she walks at a steady pace. The tall building, although not the tallest in New York City, is right in the heart of the downtown and one of the most noticeable-looking structures with it's glassy, elegant, modern build, and it's also definitely one of the most well-known structures. The whole building is dedicated to the development and movement that is _Annie's Magazine_. The magazine is older than Vogue, older than Elle and Vanity Fair combined, but it never fails to go past modern levels and bring what's coming next to give advice and guidance to those who give a shit about what to look like and what other people think about the world.

New York City is the spiritual home of fashion, and the Annie's building is it's alter.

Annie's Magazine - founded by it's namesake, Annie Levere, in 1880 - has been at the forefront of style for over a hundred-and-twenty years; at a time when woman wearing pants caused a scandal, Annie's was featuring sexy lingerie and the world's first pin ups. Through flapper girls and punk rock, Annie's led the way forward and has become the most respected fashion magazine in the world by hiring only the very best writers - many of them graduates from the New Yorker and Times Magazine - it holds influence not just over it's reader's style choices, but their political opinions, their music tastes, and their entire lifestyles..

The elite magazine is exclusive and has only ever allowed the best of the best on their covers, in their editorials, and in order to even catch their attention, you must literally be beyond sexy, alluring, popular and sweet to get it. They don't take anything less as an acception. Except for maybe, now..

Matty Zeron moved to New York City two months ago; June thirteenth was the day her brother Tyler, her friend Scout that she'd met at a camp, and her took off in her brother's van and began the roadtrip.

There was only one reason for the big life-step of moving from Toronto to the Big Apple; Annie's Magazine, now tired of the overplayed Gisele's and Heidi's of the world, were looking for the 'next big thing'.. at least, that's what Mat's agent had e-mailed her. But it couldn't be more than true. Annie's Magazine was looking for 'fresh faces' and 'new beauty'.

The decision to go was quick.

Matty Zeron wanted the Annie's cover.

To be on the cover of Annie's can and will turn a struggling, unknown model into a household name of MacPherson proportions. Matty had only begun modeling when she turned fourteen, only to have previously been involved in the film industry.

Her father a producer, her mother a photographer, and though both not very well known, they had given her an immediate career, work and a name when she was placed in the family of the Zeron's. Adopted at age one, Matty Zeron had no idea what she was in for being placed in this family. Sadly, as a child, she couldn't choose her family. If she knew what was in store for her future, she would've picked a different fate if she could've.

But at the time, with two happily married parents and three older brothers, she grew happily, and at age seven she stared in a commercial for Porche and the rest just came easily to her; she became an extra in movies and was given her first role when she was ten. A couple years later, she was hired to star in a movie alongside Jodie Foster; the popular-beautiful-famous at the time. It was her hit. Matty Zeron had a name for herself, larger than her parents, when she was only thirteen. She did another film the year after. And when she was fourteen, she decided to change her fateful pathway to do something else.

Matty wanted to model, but everyone doubted her. Everyone around her; her parents, her brothers, her friends.. so Matty put it off for a long time because the doubt pressed hard against her, and was always there when she brought up the word 'model' or 'fashion' or anything related on the topic of her going down that way.

"You can't even wink properly!"

"You hate pink!"

"You look like a boy!"

It was true.

Matty couldn't wink. She hated pink. She looked like a boy.

But she wanted to model.

She wanted to model not for the pink and prettiness, but the challenge. She saw photograph's for more than beauty; she saw a story in it. A picture of a girl on a beach, her facial expression happy— that was a story. She could tell a story based on that goddamned photograph!

For so long, Matty thought that was all that mattered. Seeing it as more than what it was. She thought she was smarter, the smartest just on that note. But when she got to the age where she demanded to make the photographic-stories as she liked to call them, she realized.. _she was wrong_. You can't be shit in the fashion industry if you don't look good.

But fucking hell, she wanted that goddamned challenge.

Three months before her fifteenth birthday, Matty did _things_. She grew her hair out. She colored it black. She painted her nails, learned how to use make-up, toned her muscles, and a month after she had turned fifteen, she went to her mom and said, "I want to model and need you to help."

Her mother agreed.

Matty didn't look like a boy anymore.

She looked like a young woman.

**_Boom. _**

Instantly.

She had it.

She had what she wanted.

In five months, she was already featured on Teen Vogue and people were falling in love with the new-face of uniquely-named Matty Zeron.

And Annie's.. it can either make you or break you.

Companies and model agencies all over the world rely on Annie's to find the next face for their campaign. If you're featured in Annie's, you're guaranteed to be big— it's almost an automatic ticket into uncontrollable fame. When it was announced that the people at Annie's were looking for new faces, models from all over the world went nuts, hoping to gain status and stardom.

It was like Charlie & The Chocolate Factory happening in the fashion industry. Except instead of a tour of chocolate-land, you got the Annie's cover. And instead of getting in with a golden ticket, you just had to look pretty.

And like Matty, others moved to the city themselves, consuming the busy streets and sucking the soul out of those they needed to in order to get to where they wanted. Models had a stereotype, and usually, the stereotype's given were accurate. Dumb blondes, black-skinned ghetto's, rude white-skinned people.. It just worked that way here. The industry preferred those with lower IQ's, manipulating them into their 'spell'. All in all, Matty probably would've made it in the modeling industry without her previous fame when she was younger, and the recommendation and help of her parents. She was smart. She was different.

New York City was a nasty place, always, but now you could smell it in the air. Behind the smell of garbage trucks, marijuana, glitter and magic, you could really, just almost, sense the filth of the nasty and bitterness that ultimately becomes the drama of the lives of those competing for fame here. Whether be in fashion, drama or something else.

Moving to this city was a huge decision, and really, Matty only realized how big it was once Tyler and Scout left and she was left alone, on her bed, unemptied boxes around her.. Then she smelled it; the bitterness.

_Damn. _she thought.

Afraid to work with the wrong people, she kept to herself at first. She booked no work until one night, after two months of living in the city, she was talking to her mother…;

_"You have to get something done, Matty-baby.. You'll book something tomorrow morning, and you'll call me to tell me all about it. Do something, please. You wanted this, so.. do something!" _

Now, a smile curves the edges of her lips. Her dark, ebony hair is up in a bun; the rough, voluminousness waves in a little jumble now after the six-AM morning shower she took a couple hours ago before getting ready and dressing in typical-teen skinny jeans and a yellow tank-top. Dark-tinted glasses covered her green hues.

A camera flashes; even though her eyes don't catch it, her mind does. It's a sense. Her extra sense.

She jogs the last few steps to the doors of the building which must only be about eight levels, but it seemingly large. She knew the building was a place that rented whole floors for studio's, and she was sure more than just Jack Craft took work here as a photographer.

She took off her sunglasses once she stepped into the building, and blinked harshly at the sudden morning light around her, filling the room as she stepped closer to the elevator. Air conditioning blessed her warm, white summer skin.

She thinks of how she got here, again.

_"Fine! Fine, fine, fine. I will, mom. I'll call tomorrow."_

_"Good, baby— Tell Ruth to find you someone. Get a portfolio ready for the end of next month. Do it!" _

_"I will! I will.. Goodnight mom."_

_"Goodnight baby." _

It was just before eight PM when the call ended, and not wanting to pester her agent to find her a name in the instant, she went on Google to explore the photographers New York City had to offer, instead of calling Ruth, the agent her mom hired her last year.

_Only for a few shots, a few pictures for my portfolio.. just enough.. _

Humming a tune from a song she forgot the name of, Mat spent an hour scrolling down google pages.

It wasn't too much longer before she had come across a listing for a photographer looking for work; _Perfect. _she thought, _I'm looking for work, too. _

Jack Craft was a local photographer, trying to work his way up a bit higher in his work, so he'd opened a studio a few blocks from Annie's headquarters, and he'd posted posters for his studio all over the city, since 'fresh faces' were pouring in like raindrops in a thunderstorm. His samples were good. He had one profile photograph, a personal picture of him. Guess it made sense to put a name to a face. He looked like a good man. Maybe even a bit older for his age; rough scruff, crooked smile, hobo clothes. The word passed in Matty's head and she laughed quietly to herself.

In this apartment, it was like the sound echoed off the walls and back at her.

It got lonely sometimes.

Matty picked up the phone and dialed the number on the screen in front of her, that brightened the room and made her eyes water a bit.

The all was quick, all in all.

"Hello, this is Jack Craft, how may I help you?" a friendly, raspy voice spoke with a nervous certainty.

"Hello?" she chirped in a friendly-but-its-ten-pm way. "My name is Matty Zeron, I was thinking about booking a shoot sometime before the end of next month…"

There was a pause. There was the sound of a chair moving against hard floor from the other end of the phone. Matty pressed her lips together as her face rested in her palm with her elbow on the desk in front of her.

"Matty Zeron?" the voice repeats.

"Yeah, that's me," she responded with a slight nervous chuckle. Of course he knew who she was, and the movement and hesitation for direct answers just kind of proved that. Everyone knew her. Sometimes it was saddening.

A pause.

"Okay, I can book you in for this Tuesday.. so, three days from now."

"Sounds perfect," she smiles, "..book me in."

"Fan..tast..ic..," he says on the other line, his voice coming out in small, almost-grunt chops. She knows he's writing something down the way his voice lightly drags.

"How does a meeting at eight-forty-five work? AM, that is. We can work with something inside my studio for the whole day, if that's what it takes," he says in an eager beat for the settling night. His voice is light, hoarse and warm. It's cute; his tone.

"Works great," she replied in a sure, friendly _of-damn-course!_ voice.

"Did you want to discuss a theme?"

"I was thinking just a regular back-board set-up thing. Some suitable clothes.. I'm just looking to do something simple for a portfolio, I guess," she says in her best work-mode way, twisting edges of her hair between her fingers, lightly tugging, and fidgeting with that instead of her fingers as she holds her phone with one hand.

"Al…right," he continues in small writing-like word-chops. "Sounds absolutely fantastic, Miss Zeron.."

"Matty— call me Matty, Mr. Craft," There's such a smirk in her voice, and she bites her own lip.

He chuckles.

"Jack. Call me Jack, Matty," he says in mock-seriousness.

She laughs into the phone.

The next ten minutes are spent discussing cloth, shoes and sizes for other accessories and things for the shoot. Boring stuff. She kind of wants to hear him laugh again.

"I'll call you if I need to, and otherwise, I'll see you eight-forty-five, Tuesday?"

"Yeah; eight forty-five on Tuesday," she continues, a tiny smile in her voice.

"See you then," Jack says, a smile in his own voice.

"See you then," she repeats before hanging up.

Her shoulders tense, along with her jaw, which she does on purpose, before dropping the collected muscle and laughing to herself.

_"That was easy." _

She doesn't realize she's been staring forward at the elevator doors for a good, long minute until they open and it releases her from her train of thought.

A girl exits the elevators and storms outside. Matty stands there awkwardly.

Did actually going out into the city, where the bitter scent of society filled her head, actually, really, scare her? No. She knew she wouldn't get involved in things like that.. in wars like that.. but she didn't even want to hear about it. She wanted to keep her mind sane. Fresh, and clear of problem.

She steps into the open elevator, barely a sound coming from the medium-blue Vans on her feet as she steps across the floor that's better-looking than her whole outfit is.

The doors close behind her, and there's only two other people in the elevator with her.

It's level five that holds the studio she's due to in twenty minutes.

She presses the button.

The doors open at level two, and one person steps out.

Matty doesn't recognize the people she quickly looks at and unlike the paparazzi, they don't even glance at her. Weird, but good.

After fifteen seconds, with the doors closing, the elevator moving, and the doors opening again, it stops at level five.

She steps out, and the elevator door closes with a sure click.

Now she has to look for the door numbered 562.

It's a long hallway; she see's a few numbers close to 562, but not 562 exactly. She keeps going, checking both of her sides. She stops. She sees it.

She puts her hand on the silver knob, and pushes open.

She steps inside.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

It looked like a warehouse decorated in the most modernly-vintage way. The walls were a sketchy white, with boarded floors that still looked secure that they wouldn't break, and little cool decorated corners were spotted in each little part of the studio. Some sections had white backgrounds set-up, and piles of equipment on the ground and set-up. There was a little office inside the large space, which had it's door halfway open, but it extended as a man Matty guessed was in his mid-twenties stepped out. She also guessed it was Jack Craft.

_Well duh. _

She was about to speak, her lips parting as her hand slightly lifted from beside her hip, but Jack Craft looked taken off guard, and she wondered if she was supposed to knock.

He spoke before she could say anything.

"Are you Matty?" he says, a gentle, crooked smile turning up his thin lips. "Matty Zeron?"

"Uh, yeah," she says, stuttering to get the words out. She gives a half-laugh as she glances to the ground, shaking her head and scratching her forehead lightly, her replacement for running her hands through her hair when it was in a bun, like now. She looks up again quickly.

"Yeah, that's me," she repeats, smiling lightly. "You're.. Jack Craft?"

They both step forward a bit, and with his nod, she holds out her hand and he takes it, his grip light as he shakes her hand.

"It's epic to meet you," she meets his eyes, grinning at his chuckle.

"And c'mon, that's not how you handshake!"

Her raises a challenging eyebrow, a crooked grin extending on his mouth.

She raises her eyebrows right back, her way of saying, _Hell yeah. I'm challenging your handshake skills. _

"And how do you suggest I handshake?" he pushes the game a little further, stepping a little bit closer, standing straight with the most crooked of crooked-playful smirks.

"Handshake like a _man_," she growls the word, stepping a few inches closer, holding her hand between the little space between them, her lips set, her eyes on his eyes.

He chuckles, his arms swinging loosely by his sides as he shifts back a little. "You don't think I handshake like a guy?"

"No, I don't."

"Miss Zeron, you doubt me too much."

"But I'm here, aren't I?"

"..Touche," he chuckles and takes her hand again, shaking it with a firmer grip. He shakes it a second time, to assure it's good enough.

She grins as their hands part and her arms fall to her sides and likewise his.

"So much better, Mr. Craft."

"Glad you think so."

So intimidated by the young, raven-haired beauty, Jack shifts the weight on his feet and watches Matty intently before stepping back a few steps while still facing her, and using his hand to usher to one of his set-ups.

"I'll shoot you here," he says, "And I have some clothes to try on and work with..," he continues, turning his back as he moves to a stand that's against a wall a couple meters from the set-up. He uses his skilled fingers to push through the fabrics, textures, patterns..

"I thought we could try something soft, but edgy.. soft and flowing, but sharper colors and I'm sure your poses and skill will make it look even better," he says, his lips twitching upwards as he speaks his words so seriously, a compliment bracketed in his words. He keeps his eyes on the clothes, but he notices Matty's tiny hands pick through them, too, on the other side.

"These are really good..," she comments, seeming thoroughly impressed, "Like, seriously," she laughs, causing a sparkle in Jack's eyes. He lightly sucks on his lower lip.

Guys get nervous, too.

"Should we get right started?" she says, turning her head to Jack and only to respond properly, he turns his head to hers, too, locking eyes and staring into those deep, green hues that he's never even seen in emerald's or sunset's or ocean's. He smiles so awkwardly, but all she see's is a welcoming crooked smirk.

"We could," he begins, stuttering to get the right words out.

_Be professional, and be cool. _he says to himself. And he laughs out loud, because he was never cool.

"We should, I, uh—" he stutters, words jumbling in with numbers of sizes and shoes and options and colors and memories, countless memories of gorgeous girls he's screwed up his chances with, so many chances, just gone..

_"Can I shoot you nude?" _

It's instantaneous; the horrible realization washing over him like a tsunami of embarrassment. Beauty is intoxication to the viewer and beholder alike; it strangles Jack, it gives him a clumsy yet honest tongue that speaks his mind. You'd think he would have formed some sort of self restraint, some sort of filter between his brain and mouth considering his job now required him to be surrounded by beauties everyday, but he was the same. Reclusive, absent-minded, easily drunken by gorgeous women.. The words also abruptly dragged his father into his thoughts, his father's infamous work, his infamous ways, and how much Jack didn't want to become that despite all the success he'd achieved with it.

He didn't ever want to think about his father again.

A few moments drifted.

Matty bites her lip.

Jack's lips part, like he has something to say, but he doesn't speak. His voice is gone. _Fuck, _he thinks, but every other part of him is in a frozen state of shock.

She blinks. Repeatedly, her lips parting in thought and flusteration.

She turns on her heel.

And walks out.


End file.
